


What you can't have

by fichuntie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, Galra Keith (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Season/Series 08, Voyeurism, fuck season8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:49:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fichuntie/pseuds/fichuntie
Summary: Shiro's married Curtis and Keith's dating a Galra guy, Zarkon. Which would be great -Zarkon's the dominate Galra partner Keith needs to get over his long time crush on Shiro. Except Zarkon and Shiro don't get along.(Shiro's marriage to Curtis is in shambles and he's regretting letting Keith go. More so as Zarkon rubs his nose in what he can't have. He knows it's wrong to watch them together, but he can't help it if he can see Keith like this.){Zarkon's having a great time. Zarkon likes how sensitive and pretty Keith is, high on his pheromones, how easily he submits under his big hands. Zarkon even likes making Shiro jealous with what he can see, but can't have.}





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dubious consent to the voyeurism. Keith has consented to sex with Zarkon in semi-public locations but has not consented to being observed, especially not by Shiro. 
> 
> Further Galra come has addictive/aphrodisiac properties which may complicate the issue of consent. Keith and Zarkon are aware of this. 
> 
> Implied/Referenced Cheating. I won't talk much about Curtis, but Shiro is married to Curtis. Their relationship is poor, but I won't specific in fic if they are separated.

Keith met Zarkon about a week after Shiro’s wedding to Curtis. Zarkon was all the things he liked about Shiro but also completely different: Keith let Zarkon fuck him the night they met, let the Galra male bend him over in an alley behind a Blade bar, let his mouth fall open with whimpers. The large domineering body that moved him was familiar but the scratch of claws and deep growls were something that kept imaginings of Shiro away. The thick viscous Galra come between his cheeks and the high of pleasing his partner were addictive, dirty in a way human Shiro couldn’t be. 

“Sweet little pet,” Zarkon had said, dragging a clawed hand over Keith’s back to fondle his ass. He’d pulled his phone out of the jeans pooled around his ankles and keyed his number in. “Call me.” And he’d sauntered out of the alley without a backward glance.

Keith had. 

Zarkon and Shiro don’t get along. Curtis gave the purple Galra a friendly hug, but Shiro seemed to tense whenever they go on double dates. Sometimes Keith thinks that Zarkon and Shiro glare and bristle at each other, but whenever he turns to either of them they fall back to being perfectly polite to each other. Zarkon does get territorial over Keith when it’s just them and Shiro, draping his large arm over Keith’s shoulder with a sharp toothed grin at Shiro that seems more predatory than friendly. Besides, humans can’t smell the way he scents Keith, heavy musk and come scent. After all, Shiro couldn’t smell the desperate heartbreak Keith had been leaching at the wedding, stressed from his almost-mate rejecting him. Once, Keith had thought Shiro had bent a metal table when Zarkon had felt him up a little. But that can’t be true. Because Shiro is with Curtis and Shiro never seemed interested in Keith, not at the Garrison and not on Atlas. It’s wishful thinking that falls out of his head when he tastes Zar’s cock. 

Zarkon’s different. 

When Keith goes to his knees and licks on his cock, Zarkon claws through his hair and pulls him back by the long dark strands so his mouth is where he wants it. Shiro wouldn’t be like that, keeps his polite Golden boy distance even with his husband. Galra instincts take over, making Keith drool hungrily for the taste. He can’t help whining when he’s held back, even enjoys the tight sensation of the grip at the base of his throat and the prickling against his scalp as Zarkon moves him like a toy. Feels so good that Keith whines loudly, too loud if he could think straight, but all that worry is gone when Zarkon lets him mouth the head. 

Zarkon’s a fucking great boyfriend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas
> 
> since my tumblr was deleted and i've received no response from support for >1 month, i've made a new blog. 
> 
> https://fichuntie.home.blog/
> 
> hope ppl enjoy my holiday + s8 stress relief.

Zarkon’s a great fucking boyfriend. 

From the moment he met Keith, smelled the fetid scent of him across the Blade table, he knew he could help the whelp. He’d smelled small like rejection and pain, completely unlike the fierce warrior everyone knew he was. His purple eyes were tear-wet ever since he went to the wedding of the Black Paladin, even if he kept a stoic demeanor as he ordered the Blades to their missions. He was holding it together admirably by human standards, commands firm and face severe. Except Zarkon wasn’t human. 

Zarkon’s nose wrinkled in displeasure for the entire meeting. He couldn’t help the reaction of his own body: receptive pheromones reaching across the table to comfort the other. Krolia seemed to have the same issue, but hers were the soothing and maternal. Zarkon’s smell struck to the core of the other Galra, making his stomach tighten. Keith wanted the mate that had rejected him. Zarkon was willing to mate. 

Zarkon approached him after the meeting, smiling so Keith could see his sharp canines and purple ruff. Keith ducked his head, probably not even realizing that he was showing the smooth column of his unbitten neck. Zarkon’s eyes flashed brightly, accepting the offer and Keith’s scent sweetened, like the earth cotton candy. And that was the start of that. 

Zarkon’s a great boyfriend. He likes being with Keith: he’s the strongest-best human-galra in the entire universe, chosen as a paladin and leader. And Zarkon, the biggest creature in any room, has the fiercest defender of the universe under his arm. Keith doesn’t need his protections - as powerful as he is - so Zarkon offered his desire, the heavy weight of him holding Keith down to make the half-Galra moan in pleasure knowing he was wanted and wonderful. Sweet pet with his fierce galra nature. They’re happy together, fight with synchronicity on missions, and fuck copiously after. 

Except he can smell the damp lust that Keith emits when Shiro’s in the room even with the guilt layered over it. 

He’s resentful of the Champion.

So when Keith is sucking his cock after a meeting with the Atlas commander, Zarkon isn’t as careful with his claws. He pushes Keith down until he’s choking on the base of his knot and his eyes shift yellow with the desperation. He’ll show Keith. Zarkon is bigger, stronger, and has no problem showing his desire towards him, proudly showing off the tiny human-finger marks that Keith leaves on his shoulders. Zarkon can show Keith who his mate is, the galra way, the pleasure of his thick cock and towering presence.

Keith groans around his cock, sloppy for it. Eyes half lidded and growling at the back of his throat because he needs Zarkon to come, Keith smells happy. He even lets Zarkon get rough with him, leave marks - claws and bruises and stripes of come. Zarkon’s usually respectful of the human custom, usually licks Keith clean as he comes down from the arousal, strokes his hair, and straightens out his uniform. 

But who can blame Zarkon if he’s possessive sometimes?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also! i got a twitter: https://twitter.com/fichuntie?lang=en
> 
> i'm also on discord and slowly working on a wp blog

Shiro slammed his hand on the door keypad. 

Sometimes Curtis made him so angry. Being cooped up on earth, tied down to the man whose laziness in space communication encryption and satisfaction with picket-fenced boredom, left Shiro frustrated. He felt his fingernails press into the palm of his hand as he stalked off from their quarters. Curtis didn’t understand why Shiro missed the action and exploration of space. Curtis, like Adam, insisted Shiro step back from his duties to the galaxy. Curtis didn’t have a thought in his head. 

Shiro breathed in deeply, slowly straightening his clenched fist. Another drawn out argument had ended when he stalked off to cool his temper. 

Shiro couldn’t be mad at his husband; he’d chosen a peaceful existence. 

You deserve to rest, Curtis had whispered to him a year ago. At the time, Shiro agreed. But now… 

Shiro still had some duties on the Atlas, keeping the official Captaincy, though Curtis and he agreed to stay planetside. Shiro set off to find Keith who was probably finishing his meeting with another Garrison officer. He’d met with Keith earlier in the day, reviewing the ways that Atlas and earth could help the new humanitarian goals of the Blade of Mamora. The memory of Keith’s lithe form and still-pretty face made Shiro’s anger twist to something else. 

He couldn’t think about it though. It wasn’t right. He’d ignored Keith’s long standing crush before the Kerberos mission; after, he’d chosen his husband. Keith had been his best man, violent eyes bright with happy tears at their wedding. Shiro the Hero wasn’t the guy who slunk around thinking of other younger men and avoiding his husband. Keith had Zarkon, the creepy asshole, and Shiro had Curtis, sweet stupid Curtis. Shiro slowed his pace, trying to use his groundedness to distract from the roiling feelings in his stomach. 

Wandering the halls, Shiro thought he heard something: a high pained whine.

His protective instincts came to the fore, pushing aside his fading anger and disaffection. He tilted his head to try and pinpoint the noise, white tuft falling forward as he set off in the direction. With quiet steps, he followed the soft whimpers.

He peeked around a corner, casing the rarely used room at the end of the hall. 

There was the shadowing figure of Zarkon, dressed in his uniform, and another figure on his knees. Zarkon’s large hands were pushing the other man down, claws dangerously sharp in his hair, and a deep rumbling growl reverberated from the Galra’s throat. Shiro felt the old dread at the sound; he’d never liked the Galra’s controlling attitude though he hoped Keith hadn’t noticed the resentment. Zarkon smirked down at the smaller man, sharp teeth glinting in the dark room. 

“To the base, pet,” Zarkon said. Shiro shuddered, revulsion and lust turning over in his stomach at the low purr. He was too shocked to stop this scene unfolding in front, no way to interrupt the humiliation of the Galra using this other man in public. This was wrong, too close to the filthy taunts the Galra used to use about conquering and using humans, addicting them to come and service. 

The other figure kneeled with fingers clutching uselessly at the black uniform pants, another high keening noise as he tried to press forward to Zarkon’s groin. Brought low, pushed down, the man must be sucking Zarkon off, a little bit of drool on the side of his mouth and his face pressed to the Galra’s stomach. Shiro could see the slow thrusts of Zarkon’s hips, the human’s grip too weak to stop him from pushing forward into his throat. Curtis hadn’t initiated sex, much less coarse oral sex in months. He needed to stop this, Shiro thought, as he pressed a hand to adjust himself in his own pants. 

Shiro stepped foward. 

Shiro’s eyes widened: Keith.


	4. Chapter 4

Zarkon’s eyes were golden in the low light of the room, catching the faint light so he could see the silky shine of Keith’s hair under his paw-fingers. Keith’s over eager, sloppy drool and precome slid past his lips as Zarkon moved his head to the base along with soft whines. Keith smelled so good, heady and sweet, and Zarkon enjoyed the suction of his mouth, human-soft tongue laving along his length. Willing happy service from a Galra not-quite-mated brought him a second pleasure, fiercely raising the spiral of orgasm. 

He rolled his neck, shoulders sagging with satisfaction. He looked down, half lidded, at Keith. He scraped a finger along his pet’s high cheekbone. A deep rumbling growl from the back of his throat raised an answering whimper from Keith. With another thrust, Zarkon’s gaze slipped higher. 

And there in the doorway was Shiro. 

Shiro, wide eyed and scented with lust and fear, stood half in the doorway. Zarkon saw the hard cock pressed against the man’s pants, the bead of sweat that rolls down his throat. Even with dilated eyes, Shiro can’t see half as well as a Galra. 

“Keith,” he says, “Keep going. Focus, baby.”

Zarkon kept Keith’s face pressed to his crotch. Being watched by his rival felt good. Let Shiro know that Zarkon had Keith, gagging and pleased. Let him see how well Keith served a true Galra warrior. 

“Deeper, to the knot,” Zarkon snarls, voice growling, knowing that it will make Keith more urgent. 

Zarkon gripped his hair tightly, pulling down to use him as a toy. With his other hand, he clenched tightly at the base of his knot, not letting his claws catch on the sensitive skin. He thrust harshly into Keith’s mouth, harder and growling. Shiro stood there, eyes dilating as Keith whimpered and swallowed another man’s dick. Zarkon stared at him, teeth bared in a grimace of pleasure. Keith’s whole attention was on pleasing him, unaware of the man behind them. 

Zarkon felt his orgasm building, but the tight grip kept his knot from swelling. He could feel the head of his cock hit the top of Keith’s mouth. Keith kneaded his buttocks, fingers nail-sharp in the soft purple fur as he pressed forward. The rhythmic massage and bobbing was so good from his pet. Shiro probably couldn’t see from his viewpoint in the doorway, but he was seeing enough. Probably he could see the long exposed line of Keith’s neck, the strain of tendons and convulsive swallowing. The Champion’s pants were tented. His smell wafted human-weak jealousy as much as lust. Zarkon growled. Keith was his. 

“Want my come, kitten?” Zarkon teased. He thrust a few more times, enjoying the soft wet sensation and the tight clutch of Keith’s throat. The orgasm rushed over him, pulsing and desert-hot. 

Keith swallowed his come. But it wasn’t enough. He kept kneading and suckling as if he could stimulate more thick fluid from his spent cock. Sometimes Keith’s incipient Galra instincts were adorable, having the paladin come-drunk and greedy. Keith must be dripping in his own pants, even if Zarkon can’t smell the weaker scent over his own pheromones. 

“Touch yourself, darling,” Zarkon said. It’d make him more pliable, easier to lift him onto the desk to fuck. Distract him when Zarkon lifted him to the desk. “I’ll knot you, baby. Patience.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't you ever heard of closing a goddamn door?   
> look forward to more fucking~
> 
> i gotta twitter now, same handle: fichuntie


	5. Chapter 5

More.

Keith’s thoughts were hazy, come drunk, as he reached between his legs. He shoved the last of his uniform aside, too focused on following Zarkon’s orders for buttons. He felt so wet, greedy and hard, in his hands but not as warm as a Galra’s. All his attention was on the twist of his fingers over his cock and the fur-soft fingers stroking his back, exposing his submissive arc to the proud gaze of his boyfriend. Keith panted open mouthed, as if he could taste the pleasure at the back of his throat.

Sometimes, Keith got like this with Zarkon, hazy and indistinct after swallowing down Zar’s pleasure. He wanted to please Zar. Pushed his mouth onto his fingers to lap like a pet. Got too focused on getting the thick knot inside him. Felt empty like a desert. Kneeling with the taste of come in his mouth, Keith only knew:

“More,” he whined.

Zarkon lifted him up. So strong. Keith nuzzled against him, limp in his boyfriend’s arms. So good to provide for him. Usually he was the one hauling around bodies to safety, but Keith felt only lazy contentment in Zarkon’s arms. Keith loved being held, lifted and moved as the larger man directed. Even Shiro had given up on hauling Keith around after Kerberos. Zarkon always kept a proprietary hand on the back of Keith’s neck when lifting him. He dug his fingers into the cords of his neck so Keith went limp, safe in the hold. 

He felt himself placed on a surface, probably a desk based on the clatter of falling stationary, but didn’t bother to look. Nose pressed to the underside of Zarkon’s throat, he could smell the sweetness and feel the rumbling purr. Zarkon would fill him, sloppy and sure. Zarkon’s heavy weight and soft fur pressed him to the desk. His large hands opened Keith’s legs, slow and easy.

“Look how hard you are,” Zarkon growled. His fingers slid along Keith’s cock. Keith’s eyes widened: Zarkon usually never bothered with Keith’s cock, uninterested in touching the smaller-human cock and more fixated on watching Keith come on his larger knot. “Messy with all this.” Zarkon’s fingers slid through his precome. 

Keith whines, “Zarkon, please.” As slutty as it felt, he spread his legs further laid himself out for Zarkon’s approval. 

“Pretty little pet,” Zarkon nuzzled against him, “I’ll give you what you want.” 

Zarkon’s eyes were bright, golden pide. Keith felt the pleasure roll through him at the approval which culminated in a soft trilling purr. His thoughts focused on the claws stroking over him, rough paw-pads against his over sensitive skin. Keith tried to press up into Zarkon’s hold but his muscles felt lax and disparate. Zarkon smiled, bright as luxite. He stroked Keith, grip rough and claws messily teasing precome from his tip; then he slid his fingers further down, his own precome and something else slick to ease the way. 

“Only I can give you this,” Zarkon said. 

The slow stretch of Zarkon as he pushed two fingers in made Keith keen. Too much. Too good. Keith nodded with jerky movements. His brows drew together. He was for this: valued, bred, spread and then held. White pleasure kept him lax, while Zarkon stretched him. It must be Zarkon’s precome opening him up, blanketing his slow thoughts as much as the heavy musk of sex. Weighing him into the sensations, wild to his instincts. 

“Please, I need- Fuck -” Zarkon pressed against his prostate, careful with his claws but firm. He stuttered out. “Hah.”

“Such a comeslut,” Zarkon drew his fingers back and lined up. “Relax, baby.”

He could feel the press of his ribs as he arched over the desk, both pressing towards Zarkon and away from the overwhelming pressure. Zarkon plucked at one nipple. Keith shuddered and clenched on the head of Zarkon’s cock. Zarkon thrust forward, sparring Keith open. 

“Zar- fuck, Zarkon.”

Thoughts felt impossible. Mouth thrown open, Keith’s breath caught: finally. Only the sensation; the shallow breaths against his face as Zarkon thrust again and again, so close to him, inside him and over him. His stomach clenched, abs rippling, breaths short. The soft brush of fur as Zarkon growled over him, fucking hard. He could feel the knot, pushing each time at his rim. Distant noise of the pens clattering as Keith held onto the edge of the desk. He needed more. 

“Let me in, pet. You want my come. You have to let me in.”

Keith gave himself over to the sensation, to Zarkon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tweet : https://twitter.com/fichuntie
> 
> work was stressing me.


End file.
